


Wayward Brothers

by TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (canon compliant), Alpha!Dean, Alpha!Sam, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Canon relationship Sam/Jess, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassie is a trans woman, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e13 Route 666, Episode: s01e15 The Benders, Episode: s01e19 Provenance, Explicit for Language and sexual content, First Time, Happy Ending, Implied Switching, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kinda (I mean as much as you can at the end of season 1), Knotting, LGBTQIA themes, Love Story, Main relationship is Dean/Sam, Mates, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-romantic relationship Dean/Cassie, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Rimming, Shameless and Gratuitous use of Snark, Slow Burn, Top Dean, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform, a/b/o au, light BDSM elements, self realisation, supernatural season 1, time stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen/pseuds/TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen
Summary: We all know the epic love story of Sam and Dean. It starts with tragedy and family; one brother sticks to the family business while the other brother sets out to be normal. However when their dad goes missing on a hunt and a fire once more ruins their lives- the brothers are pulled into a desperate fight for answers and a battle for the very fate of the world. But through all of their struggles against monsters and demons, the real story is their battle for family, love, acceptance and hope.Well what if we used a different coloured filter to allow us appreciate again, the story we already love?The epic love story of Sam and Dean in an A/B/O world.





	1. Chapter 1 - Way Back When

**Author's Note:**

> -This is AU, set in my own take on an ABO world. After initial set up the story dips into the pilot episode then flits through Season 1 with added AU elements. You could probably do with having watched season 1 of Supernatural but since you are here I will assume that you have :)  
> (PS I seem to have ended up with a contemplation of the ABO society woven into a slow burn love story - rather than porn, Sorry!)
> 
> -Please note the tags. This is very slow burn Wincest, more about their relationship then porn. The boys are brothers - both male and also both Alphas *gasps dramatically*. If that's not your thing, no worries, you have a lovely day, but I hope you decide to stay and give it a try!   
> Cassie is also a trans woman, and enjoys an entirely pleasant non-romantic fling with Dean.  
> All naughty times will take place between consenting adults. In this ABO story there is no noncon or dubcon, despite any biological inclinations the boys are in total control and choose for their actions to be consensual. 
> 
> -And finally this is unbeta’d and I am heavily dyslexic, plus we all know how hard it is to catch your own mistakes. I had a story idea in my head that I just wanted to share regardless of my talent level. Hopefully you can still manage to follow along. Xx

Dean Presented when he was 16. It wasn't a surprise to anyone except Dean himself. From the outside Dean was brash and confident, tall, with well muscled arms, quick reflexes and deadly skill with a knife or gun. Living life on the road as their father chased monster after monster, Dean had been raised a warrior, the proud son of a Hunter - and in the secretive and traditional (misogynistic) society through which they moved, of course it only stood to reason that he should be an Alpha. All the best hunters were. (Apparently.)

Not that it particularly mattered to Dean, other than the gruff congratulations and brief gleam of pride in his father’s eyes, it seemed to Dean that a title and some hormones, shouldn’t fundamentally change the way he saw himself. Still, he was slightly surprised. Ya see there was Sammy to consider. He had practically raised that kid. Sam was the center of his universe. From the age of four when the tiny bundle of his brother had been thrust into his arms and he had held tight and fled the flames, that kid had been his responsibility. Growing up almost overnight it seemed, Dean had learnt to change diapers, fix bottles, wash clothes and sooth crying fits. He had taken to the task like a natural, not typical Alpha behavior, at least not if his father's ineptitude with the kid and generally perplexed expression concerning the latest temper tantrum, was anything to go by. 

I mean, Dean didn't have a problem with it. He had no idea what a mother really was - other than vague memories of blond hair, soft smiles and warm hugs - so he didn't mind assuming a motherly role for Sam. They moved around too much for any real input other than their Alpha father and the mostly Alpha community of hunters they briefly interacted with. But their family-pack already had an Alpha whose word was law, and while Dean prided himself on obedience, dedication, and skill in all that he did - he didn't see much of his father in himself. Yes he idolized and mimicked everything the man did but he always felt he fell short. Combining that with his aptitude for child care, Dean had in his heart of hearts suspected he was an Omega. In the last few years he had begun to worry what his father's reaction would be when he Presented and how he would be treated as an Omega hunter by the Hunting community. (Monsters of course didn't care, the one thing you could say about monsters was that they were equal opportunity killers.) But apparently this was one thing he could now cross off his never ending list of things to worry about.

-

Dean lay in the motel bed the night after he had Presented staring through the dark at the ceiling. After a quick congratulations their father had had to leave chasing after a werewolf that had been taking hearts 2 towns over. It was important, people were dying. Yep kids on TV got parties and presents when they Presented, but Dean knew that he couldn't be selfish about this. Still he was hot and agitated. The first Rut after Presentation was mild and short lived, something that you just had to put up with for a day or two as a ‘welcome to the club’ present. There had been that rich kid at their last school, who had come in the Monday after he had Presented, boasting of the hooker his dad had purchased for his Presentation celebrations. But in reality most new Alphas got embarrassing ‘joke’ presents of porn or toys from the extended family Alphas (and more often then not put them to use once the party was over). It was a great subject for sitcoms and cringey teen movies but other than that, and gossip at school, Dean really knew very little about such things. (It was interesting that Omegas generally got clothes, perfume and cosmetics in these same movies and Dean had always wondered where they got their porn from, he guessed that was what the internet was for, but still it never seemed fair to him. Anyway it could be worse, if you turned out Beta you generally got a DVD or a box of chocolates. Without the embarrassingly hilarious cringe of newly experienced Heats or Ruts they didn't even bother making movies about Betas.) 

So Dean lay in bed and tried not to think about anything that would set him off. The sound of Sammy’s breathing was coming lightly from across the room and Dean didn't want to disturb him. He had already spent an hour in the shower that evening and the small stale room smelled like come and Rutting Alpha enough to be obvious, no need to make things even worse. But as Dean heard Sam roll over for the third time in as many minutes he realised that the kid wasn't sleeping anyway, and he sighed in frustrated amusement at his predicament.

Sammy took the huff as the cue to start a conversation. “Soooooo…… What's it like?” He asked, his bed springs squeaking as he rolled to face his brother in the dark.

“What's what like? You mean the annoying little squirt who won't stop pestering me when I'm trying to sleep?” The gruff answer was laced with fond amusement.

“Shut up Dean! I'm not a squirt!”

“Yeah you are, Midget. Talk to me again when you can see over the Impala’s dashboard!” The jabs were fond and familiar and this time Sammy refused to take the bait.

“So do you feel different?”

“Naw.” Dean dropped the sass. “It's just, ya know, a bit uncomfortable. But hey apparently most teens think about sex every 9 seconds anyway, so technically Rut shouldn't be that different.” He was underselling it, but the kid was only 12, no need to get too bogged down with details he wouldn't have to deal with for several years yet.

“Oh.” Was the pensive reply that Dean got, and he could almost hear the wheels turning in Sammy’s brain, cataloging the new information and comparing it to what he already knew and storing it away. Jesus, that kid would win an olympic medal in thinking, he was going to turn out smart. “Well then, can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Came the next question and Dean instantly revised his last thought. Maybe not that smart.

“No Sammy.” A long suffering reply.

And almost immediately “Why not???” came whining back.

The boys generally shared the second bed when their father was between hunts. But when John was away they split the time between enjoying the luxury to spread out and sharing for warmth and comfort. It wasn't unusual for young siblings to share rooms and beds, even among families that didn't live on the road. A parents-and-children family unit was the most basic form of Pack - and comfort, scent and touch were considered important in pack bond development. However another common Presentation gift was often your own room, to give you privacy for heats and ruts and to allow you to begin asserting independence. 

“Look Sam.” Dean decided to go for shock tactics to dissuade the irritatingly persistent little midget. “You can't sleep in my bed tonight, because I’m in Rut, that means I'm super horney. And knowing my luck you’d wake up in the middle of the night with me humping your leg.”

Sam however had been living in close quarters with his now 16 year old brother all his life and there was no body function they hadn't both witnessed on multiple occasion. “So? What about a few months ago when you woke me up humping the bed and tried to claim it was an earthquake tremor, or the time before that when you insisted that I’d pissed in the bed but it wasn't me and it wasn't pee, what about-”

“Arrrrggggggg” Dean hurriedly shouted cutting his brother off mid sentence “JESUS SAMMY! Do you know nothing about the Bro Code?!?! These things happen! Come On! It’s biology! A person can't be blamed for what happens when he’s 16 and asleep! And We. Dont. Talk. About It!”

Sammy was eyeing him suspiciously like the time they had played Monopoly and Dean kept changing the rules because he was losing. “Besides,” Dean added, “Accidents are one thing, but you don't actually want to spend the night voluntarily sleeping in a wet patch do you?!”

Well that clinched it. “Ewwwwww no!”

“Alright then, shut up and go to sleep Bitch.”

A long suffering sigh sounded in the dark as Dean heard Sam roll over in his bed and snuggle down under the covers. And several minutes passed before the next sleepy comment came: “Don't be jerking off over there all night, Jerk, it already stinks in here.” A quiet giggle and then a whispered “Jerking off, Jerk!” - like the kid thought he was funny.

Dean rolled his eyes in the dark and returned to staring silently at the barely visible ceiling. Damn it. Now he was thinking about jerking off. It's a good job that Ruts only came round twice a year, but if they were going to be worse hereafter he would have to talk Dad into getting him his own room next time.


	2. Chapter 2 - Growing Up

Sam didn't Present till he was almost 17. The kid had stayed small and scrawny well past 16. And he could tell from the look in John’s eyes that their dad had begun suspecting the kid would be Omega. It wasn't just that Sam was short and skinny, it was the fact that given half a chance he stuck his nose in a book, and would far rather keep it there then follow Dean out on ‘suitable’ pursuits like bow hunting or shooting. Yeah he was competent enough, but as far as John was concerned he whined like a bitch and constantly wanted to talk about his ‘feelings’ and how everything ‘effected’ him.

Dean of course wasn't so sure Sam would be Omega. He saw the stubborn, wilful streak in his younger brother and knew full well that he wasn't soft. He killed with confident precision when he had to, not that Dean took any of these things as specific ‘Alpha’ traits. By now Dean was 21 and having done a few solo hunts had come across Omega hunters that killed with as much fierce determination as any Alpha hunter he had ever met. Dean knew that the way others perceived you, compared to how you felt on the inside, had little to no bearing on how you would Present. They would just have to wait and see what Sammy’s designation was. Dean also knew full well that Sam would do whatever he was going to do regardless of designation (the kid had guts no matter what!) Dean only hoped that it wouldn't put any further strain between the kid and John. 

So it was a surprise to John when 6 months after his 16th birthday Sam hit a growth spurt, that just kept on going and going. It seemed that within months the kid was catching up to Dean, although he stayed long and willowy. He was all elbows and knees and complaining constantly of growing pains, eating like a linebacker and needing new shoes and clothes every 5 minutes. And months before his 17th birthday he hit Rut. 

John was pleased. (He didn't see himself as Designation Biased, he knew Omega’s could fight if they had to, but it was simple biology that they were built for childbirth and rearing Young. Alphas were built to lead and protect. Omega’s shouldn't have to fight, they should be loved and cherished and protected. That was just natural order, nothing wrong with that, despite what the tree hugging hippies might think. They weren't Hunters, what did they know.) So of course it was natural to be pleased he had ended up with two Alpha sons.

Sam for his part, was annoyingly stoic about his first Rut. Once again John offered a quick congratulations before heading out on some job or other. Dean got the kid a 6 pack of beer, a Barry White CD, scented candles and some chocolate body paint. (Come on Sammy! That's hilarious.) And offered to make himself scarce for a few days but Sam told him not to bother. Yeah the kid took SEVERAL hour long showers over the two days but mostly he just carried on as normal, even cramped in the tiny motel room with Dean enjoying the opportunity to constantly inform his little brother that he stank like sex - and going so far on the second day as to present him with an enormous pink dildo as the final part of his ‘present’ - which Sam, apparently not having any sense of humour, threw at his head. But in the main the kid just rolled his eyes and went back to reading his book, as if nothing had changed. Bitch.

However Sam Presenting as Alpha gave rise to another problem. Their small mobile pack now consisted of 3 Alphas. Yep in theory that was what they wanted, to have the ‘best’ hunting team, but in practice it meant too many chefs stirring the pot. Dean didn't care Sam was Alpha. Of course Dean reserved most of his ‘Alpha’ behaviour for displays outside of the home. Swaggering into bars, squaring up to fights with civilian authority figures who didn't have a clue what went bump in the night, ganking monsters and protecting his pack. At home however, he was more then happy to defer to their father's authority and do whatever he could to make Sammy’s life a little easier, even (especially) if that meant putting their needs above his own. 

Sam however seemed to be entirely the opposite. Away from home he was understanding, thoughtful and conciliatory. Always the first to reason, think and give the benefit of the doubt, he won people over instead of commanding and more than once talked their way out of a fight Dean was busy starting. He reserved his ‘Alpha’ behaviour for 2 situations: the hunt and the home. Still far too clever for his own good he questioned every command John gave him, demanding answers, explanations and an equal say in the outcome. He was understandably sullen and angry when the inevitable response was “Because I said so”. Dean had seen the situation brewing for several years but the addition of a formal designation brought the tensions to a head. And so it wasn't really a surprise when shortly after Sam Presented, John took Dean aside for a quiet chat. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Dean was far too old for a Birds and Bees chat from his dad, which basically was what this amounted too. It centered around the fact that now the boys were both adults and there were drives and biology to consider (Someone shoot me now) and that it would be perfectly normal to need more time apart, since they were all Alphas and there were Ruts (ugg dont think about Dad Ruts) to consider, and the basic inbuilt drives that pushed them to take charge. Of course John expected Dean to do everything in his power to make the situation work as smoothly as possible (keep his brother in line) but to bear in mind that Dean (John) could expect on going tension with Sammy. A constant stream of ‘yessirs’, ended that conversation as quickly as possible, now if only he could teach Sammy that skill.

-

It was a few months after Sammy had Presented. John was spending more time away on hunts and the times he was back were charged, more often than not, with conflict between him and Sam. Dean had convinced their dad to let them stay put for Sam’s final year of school, and Sam was mostly too busy with his school work for finals, to do more than the occasional hunt. 

However it was the weekend, John was away, and they had just completed a nice smooth Salt ‘n’ Burn. It was late. No one was hurt and the two boys were sat in a field, in the dark warmth of a summer night staring up at the star strewn sky. The hood of the Impala was still warm from the drive and Dean’s shoulder was pressed firmly against Sam’s as they lay back on the windshield looking up at the sky. He took a long slow sip of his beer as he watched the stars wheel overhead. Sammy wasn't drinking his, and although he kept his eyes on the sky he was playing absently with the label - his new Alpha scent had a slight hint of bitterness and Dean knew he had something on his mind. Without lowering his eyes, Dean elbowed Sam gently in the side. “What is it?”

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, before he offered a weak, “...nothing”

Dean huffed a sigh and put his beer down. Sitting up he turned to face his brother. “Come on Sammy, I know you, I even if I was head blind, nose blind and deaf, I would feel the cogs turning in your brain.”

When Sam still didn't reply Dean reached out and taking the beer for the fidgeting fingers, he put down his brother’s drink, placed a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him up. Putting their foreheads together he breathed in the scent of warmth and brother and the sense of comfort that hadn't left them despite their designations. He felt Sam breath deeply in return and a tremor ran through his brother's body. Suddenly Sam’s arms came up round Dean’s shoulders and he buried his face against Dean’s neck. 

Dean held himself still, surprised as Sam clung to him. They hadn't slept in the same bed since Sam had Presented. And although they remained tactile, it had been a while since Sam had subjected him to one of his octopus hugs, face buried deep into the scent and warmth of pack, home and safety. Starting to realise that there might be more going on here then a teenage bout of melancholy, Dean turned his face into Sam’s neck, tightening his own arms and offering what comfort he could. 

“What is it Sammy?” he breathed against his brothers skin. Hands moving in small soothing circles across the middle of Sam's back and the back of his neck. 

Sam let out a low whine accompanied by a shudder as he basked in the warmth and the scent that he knew he would soon be leaving behind. “I’ve been applying to schools” The words were the tiniest whisper of air as if to say them too loud would make them too real. Dean felt his heart stutter. “I’ve just heard back from Stanford, I’ve been accepted with a full ride.”

And Dean’s heart stopped. He was later ashamed that his first thought was so selfish. Because after an initial shock came the quick realisation that John would never stay near Stanford long enough for Sam to finish school, and although John was letting them do more on their own, he especially still needed Dean for back up. John had started weaning Sam off of hunts and into research when he had suspected the kid would Present Omega, so although he had taken Sam on a few cases after the big reveal, he wasn't as reliant on Sam as he was on Dean. Dean couldn't leave their Dad - who had lost his Mate and his home and his life in that fire all those years ago - Dean couldn't also take from him both his sons. And Sammy COULDN’T leave Dean. He couldnt. Sam was Dean’s life. His pack. His responsibility. Without Sam there was no Dean. Dean felt his world break apart at the thought and his fingers clenched reflexively at his brothers back. But feeling the tremors still wrecking Sam's body and the bitter tinge of distress in his scent, Dean's thoughts slowed.

It wasn't a surprise. He saw how Sam and John butted heads. The whole reason that John took so many solo hunts was because John knew the only way to solve the problem was for him and Sam to not be in the same town. In the long term, to carry on the way they had been going would only tear Dean appart. At least this way Sam got what he wanted out of the arrangement. He would get to go to school. He would get away from the life he had never really wanted, he would get to be normal. Dean couldn't be selfish about this. Sam needed him to be strong.

As for Sam, his heart was breaking too. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave Dean. He greatest wish would be for Dean to come with him. They could start a new life outside of hunting. Be their own pack. Settle down. Be ‘normal’ or at least have the chance to discover what normal actually was. Dean was his world, his everything, everything he had ever looked up to and admired since he had first opened his eyes. But the problem was that he couldn't allow himself to be ruled by emotions. That was the excuse that every crazed Alpha knot-head or every id-driven monster gave: I couldn't help myself, I was controlled by my nature. If Sam let himself be ruled by any emotions (even the depth of his true love for Dean), then it was just a short step to being ruled by the rage and anger that seemed to constantly bubble in his chest. He had worked so hard to overcome that side of himself, to instead use reason and compassion, but John still seemed to break through his control with only the slightest provocation. He knew what he had to do, what he was going to do, he just wasn't sure he had the strength to do it.

Dean’s fingers had released their death grip and had returned to soothing circles. “It's okay Sammy, It's okay, I got you. I'm so proud of you, you're gonna do just fine. It’ll all be fine.” 

Shit. Next they would have to tell John, that wasn't likely to go well.


	3. Chapter 3 - Four Years Later

In the quiet Palo Alto night, Dean slid the knife under the edge of the window of the nice looking apartment building and carefully opened the latch. Pocketing the knife, he eased opened the window and silently slipped inside. The first thing that hit him in the dark apartment lit only by the faint glow of street lights behind thin curtains, was the scent. Sammy. Jesus Christ it smelt like coming home. Four long years it had been since he had smelt his brother. The few clothes Sam had left behind had quickly lost their smell. A few hurried phone calls and voice messages, when their dad had been busy, had let him hear Sammy’s voice and know he was well - but there was nothing like the scent of pack. God, he had missed this.

But as Dean moved through the hush of the nighttime apartment, he began to notice other things. The absence of any scent of mold. The lingering smell of fresh laundry detergent and fancy air fresheners. The scent of a strange Beta female. Sam hadn't said anything about a housemate. Curiosity peaked, Dean was about to investigate further when a floorboard creaked outside the living room. Instantly on alert Dean turned to meet the attack and was confronted with a flurry of blows and kicks. Of course he blocked these easily grabbed the Sasquatch by the shoulder, swept his legs out from underneath him and rode him to the floor. “Easy there tiger” he grinned.   
The warm length of muscle beneath him was bulkier then he remembered. The kid had filled out in the last few years, and probably gained even more inches in height, if the length of the legs splayed under him were anything to go by.

“Dean?” came the incredulous reply, as Sam realised that his midnight home invader was none other than his long lost brother. “You scared the crap outta me,” he panted, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

Dean chuckled “That's cause you're out of practice,” he was about to move in for a proper hug, when Sam heaved up one of his ridiculously long legs, hooked his shoulder and flipped them so that he was on top. “Ouffffff, or not!” Dean relented “Get off me” he grumbled, slightly perturbed that his gloating opportunity had vanished.

Heaving themselves to their feet the boys studied each other in the dim light, the ambient glow just enough for Sam to make out Dean’s returning grin. “Come ‘ere” Dean mumbled gruffly as he grabbed his brother by the back of his neck and drew him in, dropping his face into the crease of Sam’s shoulder and breathing deeply. Sam’s arms came up and held just as tightly as he closed his eyes and for the first time in years was engulfed in the scent of home and pack. The words “I’ve missed ya”, didn't need to be said, it was expressed in every line of their bodies and the almost desperation with which they clung to each other. The silent communication that they had developed as children slotting back into place as if they had never been apart. 

They might have remained that way for a very long time, if at that moment the lights hadn't turned on and a hesitant voice said, “Sam?”

The voice broke the spell and suddenly the 4 years (that's 48 months, or 208 weeks, or 1,460 days - give or take a few - but who's counting) slammed back between them like a brick wall, and they pulled apart to stand as if they were two awkward cousins reunited at an obligatory family picnic and trying to make small talk over the potato salad. (Not that Dean had first hand experience of THAT situation, but this sure as hell was what he imagined it felt like.) But determined to move past his discomfort, Dean turned his attention to the voice and was surprised to see a beautiful blond girl peering back at him uncertainly. Judging from the scent this was the Beta in the house and as Sam introduced her as his girlfriend Jess, he had to admit that she was way out of Sam’s league. Some words to that effect might have tumbled out of his mouth. But in his defence his brain was still scrambling to catch up after the impact of scenting Sammy again.

“Wait” Jess asked, surprise flashing across her expressive face, “your brother Dean? You never mentioned he was an Alpha.”

“Huh” Dean interjected intelligently, not sure whether to be offended or not.

Jess rushed to clarify “Oh, no, I just mean-, well Sam speaks about you all the time and I know how much he missed you, and he is so fond of you, I guess I just always assumed you were Beta or Omega….” Jess’ rambling trailed off embarrassed.

“Well that's Designation Biased.” Dean threw back, only half jokingly- a complaint more typical to an Omega offended by stereotype but still justifiable in this circumstance. Not all Alphas were meathead neanderthals. 

Sam winced slightly but moved to put his arm around his Beta in support. “Jess didn't mean it like that. She’s going out with me isn't she?”

And of course that was too good an opening for Dean to miss a jab, and Sam knew it. The smirk was back in full force as Dean answered. “Yeah I guess that's true Sammy, sooooooo do you still cry your way through se-”

“SO DEAN” Sam interrupted loudly before Dean could finish one of their less appropriate jokes, glaring at his brother as the smirk blossomed into a full blown cackle, and a confused Jess just stared bewildered back and forth between the two. “Why are you here?”

Dean sobered quickly, “Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days....”

-

It was good having Sam back at his side. Cradled in the warm embrace his Baby’s leather seats, the road flashing past, warm air streaming through the open car window, the passenger seat filled with the lanky presence of his brother. The smell of antique leather with a hint of gunpowder and motor oil, as much home as the spicy scent of Alpha that was uniquely Sam. Things were almost perfect. Yeah they were worried about their dad, but John was the best damn hunter out there, he might be in trouble, but they were on their way to find him, they had a plan and a purpose and everything was going to work out great now that Sam and Dean were back together. (Ever the optimist)

They hit Jericho California, chasing the last known details of the job that John had been working. Sam rolling his eyes as his brother mouthed off to the local law enforcement - somethings never change. But they got more information on the missing guy and the trail lead them to the local legend of Constance Welch, who killed herself by jumping from the same bridge the missing (dead) guy’s car was found on. It was reasonable to head back and check out the bridge later that night and Dean slipped almost gleefully into full hunt mode. But Sam hadn't signed on to work a case, he’d signed on to look for their dad. He watched Dean puttering around the bridge although it was clear there was nothing there. Their dad wasn't hiding out at some bridge. A wedge of frustration began to build in Sam.

“What are we doing Dean? There’s nothing here.”

Dean was still busy running the case though his head, “Then we’ll just have to keep looking till we find something, it might take a while.”

“Dean……... I can’t.” That catches Dean’s attention. “I told you I would help you look for Dad, but I have to get back to school for Monday for my Law School interview.”

“Yeah the interview…...” Dean’s reply is quiet, his rose-tinted vision of their perfect hunting future shattered by the cold intrusion of reality. And Dean starts to feel the rush of his own anger, that he can never have what he wants so badly, “Do you really think you can have that normal life? What? Just go off to law school, mate your girl, forget about everything you have done, everything you are? Forget about Mom?”

Sam’s anger surges right back and for the first time they are butting heads like the Alpha siblings they are supposed to be. Only in this family is wanting: a normal life, getting a full ride at school, wanting a good mate and a decent career- a bad thing. And how is it fair to use the death of a women he never even knew to guilt him out of wanting to be normal. “What ABOUT Mom?? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what she looked like Dean, don't put that on me. How do you even know she would want this? None of this will bring her back to you!”

Dean growls low in his throat as he surges forward, hands fisting in Sam’s jacket as he slams him against the side of the bridge. There is a faint flash of red in his eyes that Sam hasn't before seen directed at himself, the side that Dean only normally lets loose on the final hunt. “Don't talk about her like that” he grates, his voice low and gravelly, and he maintains fierce eye contact for several seconds before the anger abruptly drains out of him, and he eases his grip. It's not Sammy’s fault he never had a mother, he shouldn't be blamed from what he never knew. “Don't talk about her like that” Dean repeats softly, now apologetic for his outburst.

The conversation might have continued but the ghost of Constance Welch chooses that moment to appear and throw out her catchphrase before throwing herself off the bridge. No matter what their personal situation, both boys are professional enough to drop the argument immediately and turn their attention to the ghost. Then the bitch decides to hijack Dean’s Baby and run them both off the bridge. Of course Dean ends up taking a swan dive into the drink and by the time he manages to fish himself out of the river, he is covered in stinking mud and has swallowed far to much of the extremely dubious liquid. It's not a fun ride back to town to find a motel, even though Sam finds him a towel to wipe off most of the gunk and protect (at least at little) his Baby’s interior. Damn it, sometimes it would be good to be a Beta and not have such a heightened sense of smell. Sam apparently agrees, as he’s winding down the windows and making exaggerated gagging noises every two seconds. But the kid can shut his face, Dean -to his sad misfortune- knows exactly what Sam smells like after eating dodgy roadside breakfast burritos and all he can say is: Karma’s a bitch.

The late night motel clerk gives them a funny look when they check in. Dean can't decide if it's because of the dismal state he’s in or if it's because they are two Alphas asking for one room. He mutters briefly that they’re brothers (although at their age - well past Presentation- it’s not much of an excuse) and hands over a stolen credit card. And finally they hit a bit of luck. Apparently their dodgy aliases must be having a family reunion, because it looks like another man with the same name checked in a couple weeks ago, and the room is still held. About time they caught a break. The boys don't even bother dropping off their bags in their ‘official’ room as they pull the Impala round and quickly pick the lock. The inside is covered in the gloriously familiar serial-killer decor of their father working a case. Printouts of missing persons reports, newspaper clipping of local crime events, and monster stats scrawled on postit notes, are pinned in strategic locations around the walls. Home sweet home. But judging by the stale takeout remains (Dean’s nose should be hired out to forensic units, if burgers were the victims he’d be able to pinpoint time of death to the minute with one whiff alone) their Dad hasn't been here for several days. 

With nothing more to do that night, Sam graciously allows Dean first use of the shower, as he settles in to study their dad’s research. By the time Dean is showered and no longer smelling of raw sewage, he wanders out in his towel and Sam confirms that they are looking for a Woman In White- Constance has been taking victims who have been unfaithful to their Mates. 

Dean lets Sam grab his own quick shower while he fishes out some sleep pants and a t-shirt from his duffle. With nothing more to do tonight they might as well turn in. But once dressed, he finds himself stood before the King sized bed, eyeing it dubiously. Of course their dad wouldn’t need a second bed. And there is the other room that the boys officially booked into on the other side of the motel lot. But Dean isn't keen to leave the room with such a tangible connection to their missing father. And it appears neither is Sam, because he comes out of the shower already wearing his sleep pants and shirt (damn kid, always so organised) and merely glances at the bed before looking to his brother. It's been 4 years since they even shared a room, let alone a bed and suddenly it feels like that awkward stage of a date where neither one knows if it's time to move in for a kiss or not. (There is a reason Dean doesn't ‘date’!) 

Sam breaks the spell by shrugging and moving round to the right side of the bed and getting in. “It's late.” he says practically, “no point messing around with rooms now. We’ll catch a few hours sleep and head out first thing to find out where Constance is buried.”

Dean shrugs in return and moves to the other side. There is a joke brewing in his mind, something sexual and highly inappropriate, but even as he turns towards his brother with a guilty-(but not really ‘cause I'm hilarious)-grin on his face, Sam is already turning off the bedside lamp and rolling onto his side, facing away from his brother. Dean closes his mouth as the words die in the back of his throat. It's strange, sometimes it seems like they have never been apart but then at other times it's feels like he has no idea who his brother is anymore. 

Instead, Dean lays on his back, in the dark of the motel room listening to the quiet breath of his brother on other side of the bed. The gap between them might barely be a foot, but just then it seems like miles. It doesn't take Sam long to fall asleep. Damn kid has been a civilian too long if he can just drift off like a baby without a care in the world, but actually the regular sound of breathing and the scent of home is soothing to Dean and it's not much longer before he too falls asleep.


	4. Chapter 4 - All Change

Dean wakes silently when the bed shifts. His senses are instantly alert, his nose looking for any new scents. Even before his eyes open, his hand is already inching off the side of the bed towards the gun on the nightstand. But there is nothing in the dark room. A quick check of the bedside clock reveals that he hasn't even been asleep for an hour. What woke him was Sam. The kid’s still asleep, but he’s rolled over onto his back. In the murky gloom, Dean can just about make out the frown on his face, but his uneven breathing and restless shifting, shout clearly that he is having a nightmare. 

What he could be having a nightmare about Dean doesn't know. Despite their tragic start in life, the last four years of Sammy’s apple pie life and a pretty blond girlfriend don't exactly make for the stuff of nightmares, but either way he can't stand by and watch the kid in pain. Moving carefully, not entirely sure of his welcome, Dean shifts closer to his brother and eases an arm around his shoulders. He’s not trying to wake Sam - Dean knows from past experience that if you are going to wake Sam from a nightmare you do it from the other side of the room or end up with a fist in your nose. But waking him would only mean hours struggling to get back to sleep. Much better to try and ease past it. 

It's a position they haven't been in since before Sam Presented, but whether by muscle memory or subconscious recognition, the minute his arm slips under his brother's head and around his shoulders, Sam rolls into Dean and buries his face against Dean’s chest. At six foot four, his ridiculous brother is too large (even in a king size bed) to be snuggled down with his head on Dean’s chest, but the kid pretzels himself up without waking. The position doesn't look comfortable to Dean but it seems that with the steady beat of his brother’s heart beneath his ear, Sam is able to finally relax. Within moments he has returned to an easy slumber. And Dean is back to laying on his back staring at the ceiling. Again. Only this time he has a giant Wookie crushed against his side and slobbering on his chest and actually he could kinda do with a piss. Damn it, he’s never going to get back to sleep. In reality he falls asleep even faster.

-

They don't discuss the sleeping arrangements the next morning. Sam was still wrapped around his brother like an octopus when he woke up, and it was the first night in the last few weeks that he didn't remember dreaming of fire. He actually felt more rested and refreshed then he had in a little while, so while it raised some old questions, there was no point poking things with a stick. 

It's a good job too, because Dean hasn't long headed out to grab breakfast when he phones Sam, ending a call to Jess, and warns that they’re busted. Sam loiters long enough to see the cops put Dean in cuffs, then has to make a hasty exit out the bathroom window. Of course the day doesn't get much better thereafter. 

Once the cops are gone Sam grabs the Impala and gets out out of dodge - worried about Dean he nevertheless gets on with the case and finds the cheating Mate of the Woman In White, eventually getting the location of Constance’s grave. When he still hasn't heard from his brother, he throws in an emergency call to the local station - diverting enough manpower to give Dean a chance - and then heads over towards the old Welch place to salt and burn the bones. Of course, Constance decides to hijack the Impala and steamroll them back to the family homestead. She seems intent on ripping out his heart for some unknown reason. 

Sam has his teeth gritted, there is a glint of red in his eyes as his adrenaline surges and he is trying to desperately fight off the hold of the ghost that has him pinned in the front seat of the Impala. “You can't hurt me,” he growls at the ghostly form of the tragic Omega, “I haven't been unfaithful.” Sam studiously ignores the image that flashes through his mind, of himself curled around his brother that very morning. Nothing had happened, he wouldn't have let anything happen! Constance has a look in her eyes like she knows Sam better than he knows himself and she leans in to mutter “But you will,” of course the bitch is crazy - to borrow a turn of phase from Dean- who speak of the devil, thankfully shows up at that moment, eyes blazing red, to unload a clip into Casper’s face. Unfortunately it's just regular rounds and does nothing more than startle the ghost for a moment. But one quick thought later and Sam is crashing Dean’s beloved Baby through the wall of the old house and reuniting mother ghost with baby ghosts which apparently cancels them out. (Just shut up and take the win!)

-

Dean is stoked as they hit the road. (Once he had finished fussing over Sammy of course to make sure that the bitch hadn't hurt him, and then finished fussing over his Baby to make sure Sammy hadn't hurt her.) Job complete. No one was hurt. They had taken out the Woman In White and now unfaithful bastards all over the state would be safe from gruesome murder (ah well you win some lose some.) But seriously no one else would be getting hurt because of Constance Welch. Him and Sam had made an awesome team. Like they had just known where and when they needed to be to have each others backs and to get the job done despite any and all obstacles. They had kicked arse, and even now hours later Dean was still riding high on the adrenaline. 

Now they were back on the road, the warm night air rushing past the car. The road ahead illuminated by Baby’s headlights (well headlight singular - thank you very much Sammy). And thanks to the Cops snagging Dad’s journal, they had a solid lead on Dad, and things were coming up Them. The road opening ahead before them with endless possibility. 

Of course Dean had slipped back on his rose-tinted glasses and the wake slap was gunna be a bitch. Sam wasn't about to ride shotgun into the metaphorical sunset with him, chasing the next lead. He had to get back to Palo Alto for his Law School interview. (Should know better by now then to try to be happy, Idiot.)

And that was the end of that. 

So of course Dean dropped Sam off back at the nice apartment building and the apple pie life he had interrupted only 2 days ago. 

-

The engine is still running as Sam gets out and grabs his bag, Dean has no intention of prolonging the moment. (Masochism is a fine kink for a saturday night, but he’s not suicidal.)

However, “Sam...” Dean calls out as his brother begins to walk away.

“Yeah?” Sammy stops and turns back, his face open.

“You know we made a hell of a team back there.” It's as close as Dean can come to saying words that he desperately wants to say, but which he knows he can't.

“Yeah” the one soft syllable is an agreement and an apology. Sam knows what Dean is saying, and he is grateful he doesn't ask, it's not that he doesn't want to say yes, it's just that he can't right now.

Sammy turns away and enters the apartment. He is hit with the scent of Jess and clean washing and fresh baked cookies. It should smell like home (like everything home was ever supposed to smell like), it's only been 2 days, but there is an unidentifiable scent missing. 

It's a useless melancholy thought, Sam needs to turn his attention towards his interview on Monday. 

Grabbing a cookie, he drops his bags and sits tiredly down on the bed. He can hear the shower running and the thought of curling up in bed with his warm beautiful Beta, has him laying back on the bed with a smile on his face. 

And that's when for the second time in his life, Sam Winchester’s world is destroyed in flame. 

Dean, as always, is there when his brother needs him most.


	5. Chapter 5 - Back On The Road

This time Dean didn't have to wonder what Sammy was having a nightmare about. Since that night when he had heard his brother howl and rushed into the happy little Palo Alto apartment to find the lovely innocent Jess burning on the ceiling, Sammy hadn’t slept well. 

After Dean had dragged his brother from the apartment, they had stood in silence as the flames consumed the building and the fire department did what they could to contain the blaze. The flickering red and yellow glow of flames reflecting off the trails of tears on Sam’s face had been the only indication of the pain he felt. The stink of burning had eclipsed the night and the wailing of sirens accompanied every action. 

When it had become clear that there was nothing further to be gained there, Sam had savagely wiped his face and moved to the back of the Impala. He had armed himself with a knife and a pistol, moving the more cumbersome shotgun into an easier position to be grabbed later, and turned to his brother with fierce determination: “We’ve got work to do.” Dean wasn't sure if the red glint in his eyes was Alpha adrenaline or a reflection of the flames.

However after a week of scouring Palo Alto, they had found nothing. Every night Sam had stayed up to early morning scouring the internet, local papers, medical reports, police reports, anything that might have given them a clue about Jess’ killer. The only sleep he would allow himself were a few fretful hours in the chair at his desk. And those few hours were plagued by nightmares. Eventually Dean had had enough, there was nothing further to be done, he convinced Sam that they were only letting the trail get colder the longer they sat in Palo Alto. What they needed to do was to find Dad. Whatever had killed Jess was the same thing that had killed their Mom and the one who knew the most about that was their dad. Reluctantly Sam was convinced and so once again Dean found himself back out on the road with his brother riding shotgun, on the face of it everything that Dean had wished for just one week ago, but given the option he would immediately have taken back his wish and spared his brother this pain.

-

Sam was finally asleep. Lulled by the familiar scent of the Impala, the constant rumble of tires on asphalt, even the dim rhythmic tones of Dean’s classic rock muted in the background, all had added up to lull him into unwanted slumber. And while Dean was pleased to see him getting some rest that wasn't cramped in a chair with his face squashed against a keyboard, he couldn't exactly say the rest appeared to be… well, restful. Between the tension in his shoulders, the scowl that has embedded in his face, and the restless shifting movements accompanied by small whimpers of discomfort, it didn't take their still renewing pack bond for Dean to be well aware of the discordant images playing through Sam’s mind. The question was: did he let the kid ride it out in the vain attempt to clear some of the exhaustion from his bones, or did he wake him up and give him a few more hours of exhausted avoidance before he succumbed once again. The question proved mute, as in his contemplation of the issue at hand, Dean coasted unwittingly over a pothole and his brother woke with a strangled shout.

“You okay there Sammy?” Eyes now studiously fixed back on the road, for safety reasons of course, nothing to do with not wanting to meet his brothers eyes just now. It's a fucking stupid question and they both know it, but what the hell is he supposed to ask?

The single grunted response of “fine” is no less than he had been expecting. A rehash of “course I'm not fucking fine, my girlfriend just burn up on the ceiling, the fucking ceiling Dean! And there is nothing, NOTHING, I can do about it. And we have no leads on the mother fucking bastard who did it and who won't be content until he has taken everything fucking good thing in my life!” - just isn't worth the air it takes to scream a second time. 

Even still Dean is tempted to follow up with an “are you sure you don't want to talk about it?” That's a ‘Sammy question’ - the right and considerate thing to ask, but of course the one time Dean is tempted to ask a Sammy question, Sammy is clearly not in the mood. He keeps his mouth shut for the time being, turns up the music and concentrates on the road. He’ll pick up some good whiskey when they stop for the night, ain't much that time and a good quart of whisky can't help to repress.

-

They take out a Wendigo, a dead kid in a lake, a demon on a plane and Bloody-Fucking-Mary, before Sam slowly starts to realise that wherever their dad is he doesn't want to be found. 

Despite the anger that boils inside of his chest and the pain and guilt that constantly flays his heart, he is learning to function through the blazing agony. He watches Dean at his side. The idiot saunters through life like he’s always done: as if he is impervious to everything. Swaggers in like he’s Superman, cracks jokes at the bad guy likes he’s the star of a TV show, charges in guns blazing and somehow manages to roll out of it with a conveniently placed minor wound that allows him to look brave but does no lasting damage. (Cynical much, huh Sam?) Sam doesn't know whether to be enraged, exasperated, defeated or amused. Since they've been back together this last one is new. Occasionally he feels a smile cracking his face at one of Dean’s antics or another, but it's still too soon, too close, too raw. Sure Jess would want him to move on with his life, to be happy, blah blah blah. But try laughing at a funeral and folks will call you a bastard. (It had happened one case when they were younger, fucking Dean and his inappropriate pranks…. It hadn't ended well.) So exactly how long was respectful enough to mourn your innocent, amazing, unsuspecting girlfriend, who had been horrifically slaughtered because you selfishly didn't tell her about your past - and when you are not one single step closer to getting her justice on her killer??

Sam huffs and leans his head against the window. These thoughts are just going to go round in circles. They are on their way to yet another case. Something about a jewellery store robbery that Dean swears sounds hinky. It doesn't look like anything that will get them closer to Dad. Some dreary scenery is flashing past the window and Metallica is playing in the background. Dean’s arm is cast along the top of the bench seat and his fingers are idly playing in the hairs at the back of Sam’s neck. Huh, when did that happen? Still its…. Nice.

Dean must notice that he’s now playing more attention, because the fingers squeeze gently for a second, and a quiet “you alright over there Sammy” rolls across the car. 

Sam is about to grunt the standard ‘fine’ when he pauses. “I know we weren't Mates” he says instead, and the statement comes out of the blue. Dean obviously has no idea what he’s talking about, and Sammy isn't even too sure himself where this has come from or where it's going.

“Um… Us?” Is Dean’s baffled reply.

“No you idiot, not us,” Sam frowns at his poor simpleton brother. Come on, seriously, two seconds of thought should have given him the only two candidates he knew, who were possibly close to being Mated. Sometimes Sam wonders how they even manage to communicate at all. “Me and Jess.”

“Ahhhhh” Dean has no idea what to say.

“Yeah. I mean. It's not like I lost a Mate. Its nothing like Dad must have felt. But it still hurts so deep…. you know?” He needs to stop now. It's still too soon to be talking. He doesn't even know why his mouth has decided now is the time to let this all fall out. This is doing nothing but digging into the pain in his chest that he needs to be ignoring.

“You loved her.” The reply is soft but it's a statement not a question.

“Yeah.” And all of a sudden his traitorous mouth has decided to run out of steam. It doesn't matter though, because the fingers on the back of his neck are pulling his head over and pressing his face into the side of Dean’s shoulder. He never has been one for words. Sam is well aware that give him a chance to talk things out and Dean is likely to either put his foot in it or get uncomfortable and start swinging. But give him a task or an action and the man is poetry in motion. 

It's a stupid cramped position - Sam all crunched sideways in Baby’s front bench. Pretzeled up so he can press his face against his brother, still tangled about with Dean’s hand on his neck. Dean, still have the majority of his attention on the road, trying to offer what little comfort he can. It's stupid and ridiculous and Dean is determined to persevere in the awkward position because it's all he CAN do just now. The idea is almost enough to make Sam smile, damn his traitorous heart. Still Sam nuzzles briefly into the scent of his brother and hums in appreciation, before he pulls slowly away.

“So tell me again, what’s this case all about…..”


	6. Chapter 6 - The Inconvenience of Biology

This latest case had been crazy (and that was saying something after that shifter case a while back!) Who had ever heard of a Ghost-Possessed Truck? And a racist one at that. (FML and the horse it rode in on).

They had been traveling through some random town when a story in the paper about some suspicious deaths on a local road had caught Dean’s eye. Turns out, one deadman had been the father of the reporter who had written the story, and the other had been his friend. Dean had taken an instant like to the feisty Omega reporter who despite her personal tragedy had been determined to get to the bottom of the case. Cassie was what Dean called a fire cracker. She had masses of curly black hair, beautiful mocha skin and soulful dark eyes - and she walked like she owned the room, always maintained eye contact and wouldn't take crap from anyone. Sexy, smart and strong, it was a winning combination, of course they agreed to help her. 

So with a bit more digging, plus the additional death of Mayor, they had uncovered the sorry tale of small town bigotry in the 1960’s and a love that had harboured a hidden secret ever since. The problems had arisen when burning the bastards bones hadn't stopped his psycho truck. But thanks to some quick thinking on Sam’s part and one terrifying game of chicken in a burnt out church, the ghost truck had been vanquished and now the they were ready to get back on the road.

Problem was Dean had been feeling itchy for the last few days. That flushed uncomfortable prickling that told him it was time for his biannual adventures in sexual promiscuity (that is to say, concentrated promiscuity, it's not like he didn't know how to have a good time the rest of the year, for god's sake he had needs. He wasn't a nun!) But they hadn't been back on the road that many months, and while they had saved several hapless civilians from their unfortunate supernatural afflictions, they were no closer to finding their dad and tracking down Jess’ killer. The last thing Dean wanted to do was take the better part of a week off, but he really couldn't see Sammy enjoying being stuck with him in full blown Rut for 5 days. Especially what with Sammy still not being at his best. (Ever the master at understatement)

Actually it was Sam who solved the dilemma. He basically told Dean that he was annoying and that he stank and to go and find something to stick his dick into. (Dean must have done something to piss the kid off, because that statement was so out of character that for a minute Dean considered offering him a holy water shot.) But it was the addition of some snide comment that about the Omega girl Cassie who had been ‘panting all over him’ that clued Dean into the fact that it was sore topic for Sam. He always had been one to confuse a nice happy fuck with a Mating proposal. And still hurting over Jess, he was probably conjuring up visions of himself as some broken third wheel while Dean settled down with a new Mate. As if he didn't know by now that a Mate was the last thing Dean wanted. 

Of course Dean offered to stay, said he could tough it out and keep Sam company in his down time (and can you just imagine how not fun that whole situation would be) but thank fuck Sam had said no. And after the appropriate number of ‘are you sures?’ and some reconciliatory noises, Dean had snatched up his wallet and headed out of the motel. Sam at least had seemed less put out as he left - Dean had promised to be back as soon as his Rut dropped and that they would get straight back on the road after. He had added that Sam should call him in the meantime if ANYTHING came up and if he needed him Dean would drop whatever (whoever) he was doing and be back in a flash. The “Yeah right, Jerk” that had followed him out the door had eased his heart and he’d happily called back “Don't be jealous. Bitch” (smh him and his mouth.)

-

Dean was propped at the bar scanning the room for potentials. He was too warm in his jacket, and a light sheen of sweat was gathering at the back of his neck, but that was just one more joy of Rut. (Overheating and perspiring. Hmmmm Sexy). But most of the Omegas in the bar were checking him out, several taking the opportunity to saunter nonchalantly past and just coincidentally take a nice long inhale while doing so. Dean didn't even bother to hide his smirk. He looked and smelled good and he knew it. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed up straighter on the bar and lifted his chin. Yeah it was stereotypical Alpha posturing, he wasn't ashamed to admit it, but he had the stones to back up the stance so why the hell not. Plus what most folk didn't realise was that half the battle was attitude. You walk in a place with an attitude that says with absolute certainty “I will show you the best fucking night of your life” and you will get what you're after 9 time out of 10. (Course the other time you might get your arse kicked but hell that's part of the fun too)

Problem was Dean wasn’t seeing much to get him going. Most of the Omega’s in the room were playing coy, doing the ‘poor helpless little me’, ‘I’m so shy and pure’. Ducking their heads and throwing him demure little glances, casually shifting to get his attention but none of them daring to make a move. The dark haired male Omega in the corner was even twirling a short strand of hair round one finger while he bit his lip. Dude was 5 foot 10 and built, for fucks sake, he was so not pulling that off! An Omega built like that should be striding up to an Alpha of their choice, grabbing them by the lapels and informing them it was their lucky night. 

Still Dean shouldn't really be hypocrital, he had started the Alpha posturing doing the stereotypical ‘big bad me’, could they really be blamed for throwing back the ‘innocent little me’ response? Ah Dammit. He didn't have a lot of time before his Rut really started to ramp up and he wasn't going to find what he wanted here. Maybe he should just hit another bar and try to walk in with less attitude? (so not fun.)

He had just thrown back his beer and was about to leave when a voice from behind him suddenly asked “Surely not leaving already? I was just about to buy you a drink.” And he turned to look and there was Cassie. “You save someone's life and I think the least you can do is let them buy you a drink to say thank you.” 

-

Cassie’s smile is broad and slightly mocking, the single raised eyebrow; pure challenge. Dean feels a smile steal across his face. 

“Well now, I wouldn't want to be rude would I?” The grin he gives with this statement is pure cheese and his raised eyebrows says that he knows it. In return she just laughs at him, full throated, head thrown back, dark eyes crinkled. She turns and shouts over to the barman an order for 2 more beers. There is practically a groan of disappointment from the room as she pulls up a seat beside Dean and they both settle down at the bar. She just chuckles again. 

“So how is the hunt going?” she asks teasingly, her eyes flickering around the sea of disappointed faces. “You managed to win anyone over?”

Dean leans in closer, makes direct eye contact and puts on his most confident smile. “I don't know, why don’t YOU tell me?”

And again she’s laughing at him. “Do these lines actually work on anyone?”

Dean just grins amicably “Usually? Yeah.”

She shakes her head, laughing some more and passes him over the beer the barman just put down. Then she raises her glass and says lightly “well then, thanks for saving my life!”

“You’re welcome.” He smirks back and they drink amicably for a few minutes.

Once the beer is gone and they have been chatting about nothing for several minutes, Cassie moves to pick up her purse. “Well honestly, thank you again from the bottom of my heart! But I guess I should leave you to it. You’re looking a bit flushed there tiger.”

“Are you sure?” Her raised eyebrow and quizzical expression causes Dean to laugh, “not about me being flushed. Because yep, I’m burning up over here. I mean about leaving me to it? Seems like we might be good together? If you was looking for a bit of fun?”

She eyes him quietly for a few minutes, a small smile on her face. “I wouldn't be opposed to a bit of fun. But, to be rather blunt about the matter, how do you feel about trans women?” When Dean just stares at her with his eyebrows raised, she hurries to clarify, “Its just that I find it's better to be up front, you know, before things get too hot and heavy, don't want any misunderstandings…” her voice trails off.

Suddenly Dean sticks out his hand with a grin on his face. “Hi! I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Dean Winchester, I’m an aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky people who are interested in mutual fun. My safe word is Impala and my favourite food is pie. And I’m pleased to meet you Cassie Robinson. You know.... Just to be upfront about things.”

Cassie is laughing again as she shakes his hand. “Come on then Dean Winchester.” She gets up and puts down some money for the tab. “I think there might even be pie at my place!”

Dean’s groan as he follows her out of the bar is literally pornagraphic.


	7. Chapter 7 - Cassie

Thankfully Cassie has her own apartment, so they don't have to head back to her Mom’s house. Sex is a fact of life when you hit Rut or Heat twice a year, but given the choice no one likes to have sex when their parents are within hearing range. Not that it never happens, needs are needs after all, but think of it like taking a piss, a perfectly natural act that everyone does but given the option, one that doesn't usually require an audience. (Unless that's your thing of course. It’s not for me but hey man, I don't judge). So they stumble happily into Cassie’s small town apartment, lips locked and hands starting to wander.

Between kisses Dean pants, “What kinda things d’ya like? Anything that’s off the table?”

Cassie smirks at him, “Are you sure you’re an Alpha? Aren't you supposed to throw me down on all fours, take me roughly from behind and tell me how much I want to be split on your knot?” 

“Well if that floats your boat, Sweetheart, I could give it a try. I just assumed that we’d start the evening with something that didn’t require a safe word.” They both laugh between kisses and Cassie pulls away.

“Go grab the bottle of whisky in the kitchen and two glasses. I'm going to go freshen up and then meet you in the bedroom. We can sort out the details once we’re comfortable.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Dean calls and he turns to search the kitchen for the drinks. Luckily the whisky is in the corner of the counter with some other bottles of alcohol, and the glasses and in the cupboard above. (Guessed right first time. Score!) Dean pours out 2 generous amounts and snags the bottle with his other hand, before heading back to look for the bedroom. It's a small apartment and he doesn't have any trouble. There is a closed door is off to one side of the bedroom - which he guesses from the noises it’s the ensuite Cassie is in. 

He puts the whisky glasses and bottle on the nightstand and shrugs out of his jacket. A small armchair is placed against the far wall, which he tosses his things over as he gets undressed, and maybe he does a little happy dance as he is busy wiggling out of his clothes but no one has to know about that.

By the time Cassie comes sauntering out of the bathroom in a slinky black negligee, one very naked and slightly sweaty Dean Winchester is already tucked under the covers. A few packets of condoms and a small pot of chocolate body paint, now on the table next to the whiskey. 

“I see you came prepared” She says as strides over to the bed.

“Well, I don't like to be presumptuous, but….” 

Dean’s grin is cheeky. But Cassie has her own cheeky grin as she leans down and fishes out a big box out from under the bed. Flipping the lid on one of the most impressively stocked play boxes Dean has ever seen, she says “Preparation is key!” and then adds an honest to fucking god, slow wink at the end. Jesus Christ, Dean thinks, he might actually be in over his head.

Cassie settles back against the headboard, the box off to one side and passes Dean his drink. For the moment she puts the flirting aside and faces Dean squarely. “I know you said you were okay with me being trans.” She takes a steadying breath, “But just to clarify I’m Beta Male to Omega Female Pre-Op, so from the waist down I’m currently functioning like a male Omega. I’m okay with that but we will probably want to add some extra slick, there is only so much you can do with Omega hormones you know?” Her words are quiet but forthright. She meant what she said earlier - it's best to be up front with these things. 

Many Alphas males and females are flexible with the sex of their Omega partners, but traditionally any dealings with Betas involve only hetro couples. The key of course been procreation. Both genders of the Omega designation are highly fertile, able to be impregnated by either gender of Alpha. And while Beta/mix procreation is possible, because Betas don't have Heats and Ruts the success rates are lower and only possible between opposite genders. Unions which can’t result in conception have traditionally been frowned upon, while the most fertile pairings were the ideal achievement.

Of course opinions change. 15 years ago, Cassie might have worried her Mom would throw her out of the house when she came out as Trans. (Well maybe not her Mom; who knew only too well that you loved people because of who they were inside, not because of external details like gender, designation or skin colour) but certainly it would have been a grave concern for most trans-people, and of course anyone in a 3SD Relationship (Same Sex Same Designation) .

“So of course, since I’m (B)MT(O)F Pre-Op I’m not fertile with a male Alpha. I know that's a big deal to some people.” Cassie raises her chin as she says this last and fights to maintain eye contact. She is not ashamed of what she is and she knows for a FACT that Dean is not looking to Mate or to have Young from this Rut, but the admission of infertility is the biggest taboo of their culture and she has to fight her conditioning for shame every time she makes it. 

Dean leans in and places a gentle kiss to her lips while maintaining eye contact of his own. “I’m not looking for a Mate Cassie, and I’m not looking for Young, that's not something my job can accommodate. I am also not ‘most people’ and I don't give a flying fuck about their opinions either. I wanna make you feel good and I wanna let you make me feel good, and that's it.” When Cassie smiles at him, he takes a large sip of his whisky before swiping her glass and putting both his and hers on the nightstand. Leaning in he takes her earlobe between his teeth and lets out a low growl. “Now look woman!” he rumbles with his best Neanderthal Alpha Impression, “these Alpha urges can only be held back for so long! So unless you just want me to throw you down on this bed and split you open on my enormous knot, I suggest you get to telling me what you like!” 

Cassie is laughing again even as her hand is dropping into her toy box and bringing out a massive tube of synthetic slick, and it's not long before Dean’s eyes are glinting red for real.

-

It was 5 days later and Dean was laying exhausted and sweaty in a very rumpled bed. Cassie had rang into the paper and booked the week off work. Boses observed the statutory laws for personal Heat/Rut (H&R) leave, but most also offered reasonable flexi time arrangements to partner someone else's H&R leave.

He had sent a handful of texts to let Sam know that he was still alive, and hadn’t received anything back other than the standard “have fun and remember to hydrate” replies.

His skin was finally beginning to feel less itchy and his temperature cooling, but that didn't stop him leaning over to run a lazy tongue over Cassie’s exposed nippile. It earned him an equally lazy moan of approval as she woke up slowly in the golden early morning light. Deciding that he still had enough juice left for one more roll, Dean pulled on the bed covers to expose more of her glorious caramel skin and began to kiss his way down her body. Cassie wasn't particularly interested in her cock, which was a slight shame as Dean gave the best head ever (even if he said so himself), but it absolutely drove her wild to have a tongue in the arse. So trailing kisses down one hip, he pulled her onto her side and lifted a knee to give himself space to bury his head between her legs and lick a broad stripe up her crack. The faint smell of her Omega slick was complimented by the additional synthetic slick they had been using, and all overlaid with the smell of his own come. It was a heady combination. 

They had used condoms for every coupling, but Alpha Condoms were not the tidiest of contraptions. Up until a few years ago you even struggled to find them in a general store. (Me Alpha. Spread seed. Make Young. Ugg!) But thankfully things were changing. The things were still uncomfortable though. They fit snug to the base of the cock with a tight heavy band, designed to catch behind the knot once it started to swell. Incorrect placement would cause the whole thing to slip off once the swelling started. And off course they were always too baggy to begin with, had to be to accommodate a growing knot, so it made them an initial distraction. And don't get me started on the slim vent-tube along the side. I mean of course there had to be a vent. You just couldn’t catch that much come in one little raincoat, but the MESS you got with an immediate vent! At least ‘Au Natural’ an Omega could nip to the restroom once they uncoupled to save a little on the clean up. Anyway it was what it was. Needs must if you didn't want Young, or weren't planning to be exclusive.

So one of the few nice things about using a condom and the resultant mess was that Cassie absolutely stank of his scent. It was awesome in that prehistoric caveman sort of way. And as he growled his appreciation and pushed his tongue deeper into the puffy well used hole in front of him, Cassie certainly wasn't complaining - if her noises were anything to go by. It was several long minutes later of swirling, thrusting tongues and clever hot probing fingers before Dean was pulling back and reaching for the condoms and the slick for one last time. He couldn't help but growl as he sank into her warm depths, rolling his hips in smooth thrusts and felt his knot begin to swell. But even as he panted and licked at the back of Cassie’s glorious neck, her masses of hair swept to one side, not once did he consider setting teeth to shoulder. 

-

Afterwards - when they have unlocked and lay together, tired and well satisfied - Dean runs a gentle hand down Cassie’s side, slips on a cheesy grin and says “Hey Baby was it good for you?”

They both laugh quietly. “Hmmmmmm” Cassie replies, “I know I’m sore in places, I didn’t know I had places! But yeah Baby it was good for me.” She leans in to kiss him lightly. “So I take it your Rut has Dropped?”

“Yeah.” Dean replies with a yawn. “In a bit, I’ll start tidying up and setting this place back to rights - then I’ll probably head back over to Sam. Someone has to keep the poor kid out of trouble.”

Cassie eyes him quietly before she says, “I know you said that a Mate and that kind of life wasn’t in your future, but you know they could be if you wanted them.” Her eyes are direct, her offer clear.

Deans reply is kind but sure “I have to be a realist, Cassie - I just don't see much hope for things like that in my future.”

Cassie is regretful but not surprised. Still she adds. “Well you never know, stranger things have happened. Maybe I’ll see ya round sometime.”

Dean doesn't agree with her, he just smiles and gently shakes his head. “Let me get started on this tidy up.”

-

They are back on the road and the miles rumble past, Dean has even let Sammy drive - of course he says it's because he’s tired after this week, but it's really to apologize for abandoning the kid for so long. They haven't been driving long before Sam turns to his brother and asks. “So you don't ever think about it? Always being stuck on the road, not having a proper home? You never tempted to take a Mate and be happy?”

Dean just fishes his sunglasses out of the glove box and sets them on his face. Stretching lazily he ‘accidentally’ lands his outflung hand on the back of Sammy’s neck and leaving it there he says, “Shut up and drive. You can wake me when it's my turn.” And he puts his head down against his Baby and settles into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8 - And What Now?

Time has been turning on, as it usually does, and they had been on the road now for several more months. Sam could only vaguely remember his supposedly frantic last year at Stanford, staying up all night, reading textbooks and cramming for exams. He had fallen into that civilian illusion, not really knowing what ‘frantic’ truly was. Now he was relearning. Nothing seems to hold still for a minute, everything is life or death.

First his dreams had gotten worse - more realistic, more scary - and were coming true with greater and greater frequency. Then before he had time to adjust, he was having visions in the daytime too. And set aside the mind numbing agony and the constant sense of dislocation they caused in him, there was the worry about what this all meant. Why Him? Why now? How? Why these visions? Where did this power come from? Where would it end? What did it mean? There were no answers for anything.

When they had finally heard from Dad, they had found out that they were hunting a demon, but the information only raised more questions. They were no closer now to taking out the son of a bitch who had killed Mom, and killed Jess, then they had been at the start, but at least they now had a name. The Yellow Eyed Demon. And it haunted Sam’s dreams. Literally. 

-

Of course because life just loves to kick you when you're down, it was around this time that Sam found himself kidnapped. Something jumped him when he was in the parking lot outside of a bar and the next thing that he knew he was waking up in a cage with a splitting head. The stink of blood, shit and despair thick in his nostrils.

It had turned out that he hadn’t been taken by monsters at all, they had just been humans! Hillbilly Alpha fundamentalist hicks. Ruled by the law of Might Equals Right - that if you were strong enough to take something, then you had every right to take it, and if you weren't strong enough to keep it, then so be it. It was the kind of dark age thinking that hadn't been actively employed since, well - the dark ages. And even then much of that was probably just historical propaganda. The reduction of people to a status less than beasts, acting out their basest desires, without cordon or censorship in the name of Id. It was a dangerously seductive notion to the wrong type of person.

Sam had always had to keep an eye out for such Alphas when he was in a bar. They would usually hone in on him - as the tallest, heaviest built Alpha male in the room - and determined to prove their superiority, they would approach snarling and growling, eyes flashing red, looking for a fight. Mostly Sam tried to talk them down if Dean wasn't around, (Dean who was not normally afflicted by the deficient Alpha gene, would instantly go redeyed at any perceived threat to his brother) but often the knot-heads were not interested in talking and then Sam was more then happy to give them physical re-education. It was just a shame that they had to come to that.

However this was the first time he had come across a pack actually living by such rules. It was pretty horrifying. 

True to form, Dean immediately began searching for his brother, talking some cop into helping his case, not ceasing until he was kneeling in dirty straw - his eyes glimmering red and his arm pressing between bars to cup the back of his brother’s head. Sam’s own fingers reaching out to slide along Dean’s pulse. “Sammy!” The broken word bleeding from Dean with all the pent up frustration and fear that had been locked inside while he searched. 

“What are they? What are we dealing with?” (Be strong, be strong. Getting Sam out is the first priority.)

“They’re humans Dean,” Sam is vaguely disgusted. “Just plain ordinary fundamentalist knot-heads.”

Dean growls with unrestrained disgust, “Fucking humans! Monsters I get but, humans? Crazy!” - a pause as he digests the information, and becomes more cocky about rescuing his brother. “How the hell they get the jump on you anyway man? You must be getting rusty.”

Ignoring Sam’s exasperated scowl, Dean leaves Sam in the cage and goes into the house in search of the keys. The fucking humans get the jump on him, because karma is a bitch like that. (Never, ever tell Sammy that one of them is a 12 year old girl! After his little jab at Sam, this situation is frustrating enough as it is!)

They then proceed to tie him to a chair and introduce his shoulder to a hot poker, and someone should tell these bastards that that is just rude. And excruciatingly painful. Dean might have howled. (Hey! It's a perfectly acceptable response! Especially when someone is skewering you with molten metal.)

Actually, judging for the noises that are coming out of Sam’s mouth when he explodes into the room and the flaming red glow that is eclipsing his eyes, it's fairly likely that Dean howled, and loudly enough to be heard in the barn. (Jesus Christ, remind me not to piss off the kid). Apparently the cop has opened the cages, and the result is now a bigfoot sized wall of solid muscle that is seriously enraged and hulking out. The best thing you can do in that situation is curl up into the tiniest ball possible and pray to god that he doesn't notice you. Seems these knot-heads aren't that smart. By the time Sam has finished there is a lot (A LOT) of blood. 

“You okay there Sasquatch?” Dean asks cautiously, still tied to his chair and wearing only about half the quantity of blood that is currently coating Sam red. Sam just stands there chest heaving staring at his brother, before frantically flinging himself to his knees and scrabbling at Dean’s bonds. “You’re okay man, I’m okay. Everything’s okay” Dean tells him ridiculously between hisses of pain, as Sam desperately twists him around to inspect his shoulder. Sam growls at the sight of the damage, and Dean hopes that the little girl is hiding somewhere in the house, because just at this moment in time, he couldn't guarantee even her safety. 

The cop sorts out apprehending the girl and calling in backup, before sending them on their way. They have a long walk back to the car and Sam hovers anxiously over Dean the whole way despite the fact that he was the one who had been kidnapped!

That night once they are clear of the state and settled in a motel, Sam gets Dean patched up and on some of the good painkillers (whoohoo). He won't let Dean sleep on his own, clinging to his side, like he is afraid that Dean will disappear if he lets go. Which actually Dean doesn't mind in the slightest, because he knows exactly where Sammy is if he’s glued to his side, no chance of him getting kidnapped from there. Besides they both know they sleep better when they are wrapped in each other's arms. (Shhhhh! That's the drugs talking. No Chick Flick moments, Remember?!)

-

So the crazy keeps coming but at least it is the two of them against the world. The strangest little pack consisting only of 2 Alphas - which is able to withstand anything the world throws against them. They stop ordering twin rooms when they halt for the night. The second bed isnt getting any use and a double is cheaper. The warmth and comfort of pack, the scent and touch that is them together, ingrained into their bones. They shore each other up while the world tries to tear them down. 

They finally catch wind of their father when the demon Meg, lures them in as bait. And it's only some serious badassery and a lot of quick thinking that manages to get them clear of the shadow demon trap. Even Sam has to reluctantly agree with Dean that it's too risky for them all to stick together. And though the logic seems sound that their very presence hampers their father’s ability to complete the job, neither of them even for one second considers applying that logic to each other. 

-

It was almost a relief to come across a good old-fashioned haunted painting. They are making their way through Upstate New York when a classic locked-house murder and some notes in their dad’s journal, have them scouting out a fancy auction house. The owner’s daughter is one Sarah Blake. A tall dark haired female Alpha with a forthright witt and a calm confidence. There is a fair bit of eye flirting going on between Sarah and Sam while the boys checkout the objects from the latest victim’s house. And Sarah’s conservative father is obviously disapproving of the less-than-fertile match he is imagining as he watches them. Of course their shoddy clothing probably isn't helping matters either. The old man keeps a stern face as he runs off the two strange Alphas, away from his daughter. None of that perturbs the boys in the slightest. 

Dean manages to convince a reluctant Sam to ask the other Alpha out on a date and get them some background information. They are both fairly surprised when she says yes. Sam supposes that she must just be very personable. (Dean supposes that she is secretly one kinky wildcat.) 

The odd couple get a few disapproving looks at the fancy restaurant, when patrons catch a whiff of their scents, but Sarah seems content to ignore them. Surprisingly they chat, and get to know each other and have a really nice time. There is no spark there between them, more like a feeling of kindred spirits. Like they would have been best friends if they met in another lifetime. When the meal is over and Sam asks about the information, Sarah is happy taking him home and handing over what she’s got.

From there it's a simple (well, simple for them) case of finding the painting that connects all the victims. Tracking down its history and backstory and disposing of it. Of course it turns out to be a bit indestructible, because of the additional horror of a creepy haunted doll, but you come to expect shit like that in the Supernatural world. Sarah ends up giving them a hand, and unfortunately they are not able to save her friend Evelyn, but with good teamwork and some frantic scrabbling they are able to finally take care of the ghost. Super. Job done. Time to move on.

However (why is there always a ‘However’?!) it's Sam’s turn to be feeling itchy. (Had to happen at some point. Even if the guy does like to pretend he’s a monk.) There is no point packing up their motel room, Dean doesn't even bother when Sam starts to try.

“What? You wanna just hit the road in Rut? Come on Sam! I know you’re Mr ‘Stoic’, Mr ‘I am in control of my base instincts’ but seriously? I get to spend 8 hours a day stuck in the car, with you jerking off in the back?”

Sam huffs at him and stops gathering up his clothes. “Fine Dean.” he adds a glare for good measure. “Go get another room and we can sit here twiddling our thumbs for 5 days.”

Dean just laughs at him. “It's not your thumbs that you’re supposed to be twiddling Sam! Do I need to draw you another diagram?” But it appears that Sam is still traumatised by the diagram he drew the kid when Sam was 12. “What about Sarah? Huh? You could head out and get you some nice fat Alpha cock!”

Sam rolls his eyes and pinched dimples make an appearance, “You are disgusting, you know that right?!”

“What Sammy,” Dean laughs, “I didn't have you down as designation biased. Come on admit it, you would luuuuuve her to bend you over a desk and knot ya all rough. If you asked pretty, I bet she’d even spank ya.”

“And that’s why you are disgusting Dean, you have no concept of the difference between porn and real life! You do realise don't you that she doesn't wander around her house in a leather catsuit waving a riding crop” The face Dean makes at this point is just disturbing, “... just because she’s a female Alpha! Is that really what you see when you look at her?? What about the woman who can stare down an entire restaurant to do what she wants? Who is as happy to order a Beer as a Chateauneuf du Pape? Who laughs because she’s happy not because she has too. And who lost her Mom, who was her world, only one year ago, but is brave enough to be out there and living her life?” Sam has stumbled to a stop, stunned at his own outburst and Dean isn't laughing any more, he is staring at Sam in surprised consternation.

“Come on Sammy, you know I didn’t mean it like that! Of course I know she’s a person! It was a joke dude.” Dean is slightly hurt. God knows his sense of humour isn't subtle, but he has never mistaken a joke for reality.

Sam sighs, “Your problem Dean is that you don’t understand that not everyone wants to treat sex like a sweaty round of pool. Say ‘thank you very much’ after a ‘good game’, shake hands and leave the bar. It's not my fault if I think it should mean something, that there should be some honest to god connection. And Rut or not, biology or not, I don't see why I should be forced into something I don't want. It's up to me what I do with my body.”

There isn't really much Dean can say to that. He is at one of those points where he really doesn't know what words to put in here that would let Sammy know that he understands what he’s saying. That even though they might not see sex the same way, he understands the need to not be forced in a direction outside of his own control. And the need for a connection that means something. The thing is: he doesn't look for that in sex because that is not where he finds that. He already has that connection, that bond that means something. The person that will stand by his side while the world tries to push against him, that will hold him up and let them forge their own path.

What he doesn't have are the right words to express that without sounding like a drooling moron in the world's most abhorrent teen romance movie. 

So what he does is pat his brother awkwardly on the shoulder and give him a small smile. “Okay, I hear ya….. Well I'm gonna go get a second room. If you want I can make a run to the store and get you some supplies. You can send me a text if there is anything I can do.” He should probably have gone with the abhorrent teen romance, but done is done. Best just to make a quick escape, there is a bottle of Jack that will sort this right out.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Joys of Alcohol

Dean doesn't really know what he is supposed to do with himself for 5 days of doing nothing. He doesn't remember being this bored when Sam hit Rut pre-Stanford. He is sitting in his motel room, on his own, staring at some rerun of Dr Sexy and he doesn't even care that Dr Piccolo and Dr Sexy are getting hot and steamy in the elevator. 

First day he had pulled out all his clothes, briefly run down to Sam’s room, (Fucking Bitch was reading a book!) and grabbed up his clothes as well, and headed out to do a laundry run. So that had wasted an hour or two. Then he had pulled all the weapons out of the Impala, and cleaned and sorted everything. Thankfully that had wasted about 3 hours. After that it was only logical to clean and detail Baby. Poor girl was in need of a bit of love and attention. She was looking hot now he had finished and added a second coat of wax. And it was still only early in the evening. 

He had headed out to a diner and got himself some food, getting take out for Sam, making sure to pick something with lots of meat (kid needed the energy) but also plenty of fresh vegetables. And on the way back he had stopped by the store getting bottles of gatorade, energy bars and protein snacks (because he was the worlds most awesomest big brother.)

Sam at least had been in bed this time, his face flushed and the covers hastily pulled up to his neck when Dean barged into his room. “Don't mind me,” Dean had shouted merrily as he deposited his goodies on the small table by the door. Sam had just stared at him frozen, one hand clutching the covers, the other buried …… somewhere out of sight. “I’ll ...um….. Leave ya to it.” Dean had said, smile fixed, before backing out. Sam still hadn't moved.

After that Dean had headed to a bar and gotten drunk. But now it was mid afternoon the next day, and he had run out of things to do and there were at least 3 and a half days to go. There was the option to take off somewhere, get in Baby and drive, but just because they were taking a break, didn’t mean that the demons were too. He was reluctant to get too far from his brother. There was also the option of doing some research, say on: Djinn genealogies or the history of werewolves….. but honestly, even the thought of it increased his boredom. So here he sat staring at the screen without really watching. God it was going to be a long week.

-

It was about 6pm when his phone rang. Thank fuck for that.

“You still alive over there?” Came Sam’s voice, tiny and distant.

“Hey that’s my line.” Dean returned, just happy to have someone to talk to. “How’s that wrist of yours holding up?”

“My wrist is doing fine, thank you Dean.” The reply was prim and just a little bit snarky, (Dean grinned) “I was busy making notes on the origins of a Sumerian off-shot of the Djinn line, but I was wondering if you wanted to get some food?”

Dean despaired of the kid, he really didn't know where he had gone wrong. “You do know that's not what the internet was invented for, don't you? Especially not mid-Rut.”

“Yes thank you Dean,” This time there was more of a laugh in the tone, “If I need any pointers for the correct use of the internet, I can always look at your browser history.” (Ah, really should remember to clear that!) “But seriously Dean, everything is honestly fine over here. If you wanna grab some food and head on over, I promise I'll be dressed and decent and everything.”

That earned a laugh, and if they were back to joking with each other Dean probably was safe to head over. Seriously the kid could give lessons to monks! “Well if you’re sure? I’ll go grab some food and be over in a bit. And if you get itchy you just let me know and I can get out of your hair.”

“Sure Dean. I’ll see ya in awhile.”

-

Dean picked up plenty of alcohol while he was out getting dinner. Just because Sam might be able to keep his hands out of his pants or keep from charging the nearest bar, did not mean that the room wouldn't stink like a hareem on a hot summer's day. He didn't bother getting the good stuff, the paint stripper fumes of cheap alcohol would be just what he needed to distract his nose. 

When Dean got into the room and sat down though, the smell wasn't anywhere near as bad as he had been expecting. Yeah Sammy was flushed and sweaty, but he was dressed and sitting at the table happily pulling out the takeout boxes as if he didn't have a care in the world. And while the room was thick with the scent of Rutting Alpha, it didn't smell offensive, it mostly just smelt of Sam and a hint of home. (It's not like he had stopped to get a proper lung full the last 2 times he had barged in). It was all a bit surprising. 

Thinking about it he realised this was Sam’s first Rut since they had been back on the road, since Jess. Yeah it was very late, if you counted back the months to that fateful night, but that wasn't unusual in cases of grief. And sure Sam had bitched at him that he stank when Dean had hit Rut four months ago, but Sam had been in a pissy mood, and it's not like they had actually spent any time together. Dean had been with Cassie the whole time. Now Dean was busy trying to think back to pre-Stanford to remember their dynamic. Sure he had spent plenty of time off chasing tail when he was in Rut, but the rest of the time, he didn't remember actively avoiding Sammy. And Sam had Presented so late that he had only had the two Ruts before he went off to Stanford. The first being typically short and mild and the second being… well Dean didn’t actually remember it. It mustn't have had much of an impact on their activity. Huh. Maybe he was making more of this then he had to. Maybe the kid just had Super Rut Powers to go with his freaky vision ESP and they really could just ignore the whole thing. (Famous last words. right?!)

-

The evening got late and the boys were lounging against the headboard watching a crappy horror movie marathon on the small fuzzy TV and making a steady dent into Dean’s supply of cheap alcohol. Any casual observer would have told you what was obviously going to happen next. You don't throw too good looking men together into a small room, one of whom is in Rut, and who both have far more love for each other (beyond that which is common for brothers), add in a steady supply of alcohol - and not expect something to happen.

Except that it didn't. Exactly.

Sam kept his hands out of his pants and off of his brother, and they both enjoyed laughing and joking and making fun of the movie. It was nice. It was like the world had taken a break. Like they were in a cheesy 80’s movie montage. Like there were no monsters breathing down their necks. Like their dad wasn't out there alone tracking down some monsterous demon. Like they didn't wonder where the road would take them tomorrow, or what evil thing was coming next. Like the last 8 years hadn't happened and they were still innocent teens with nothing to worry about except skiving off school or acing a test. (Respectively of course)

So when Dean started to feel warm his first thought was that the alcohol in his system was getting to him. 

Pulling off his jacket, he got up from the bed and headed over to grab a bottle of water. A casual “You want another drink Sammy?” 

was answered with a “Naw, I'm good.”

It wasn't until he had settled back on the bed with his water, trying to see where they were up to with the film that Dean noticed he has hard. Which was ... ..odd. He hadn’t even been thinking about anything kinky. Sam had been telling some joke about one of their old cases that hadn't quite gone to plan and had ended with Dean sitting in the middle of a pond for 3 hours. (Don't ask.)

So it was also equally odd that Sam chose that moment to ignore the hilarious ending of that story and lean into Dean and take a good sniff. “Ummmm……… Dean?” He said hesitantly, “...... that isn’t me.”

The bead of sweat that chose that moment to roll down the back of Dean's neck, was the final nail in the coffin.

“Were you due……?” Sam asks.

“Not for another two months.” Dean answers stunned.

“Oh.” Sam replies.

“Huh.” Dean responds intelligently before leaping from the bed and bolting full speed out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10 - A Question of Mates

Dean is lying on his back, in his own room and staring at the ceiling. It seems to be his default position for thinking. His heart's still pounding from dashing back to his room and slamming the door behind him. But maybe also because he’s in fucking Rut. How the fuck is he in Rut? He still has another 2 months left to go.

I mean there is the obvious reason for an early Rut. But that is just fucking ridiculous. Obviously Mates go into Rut and Heat at the same time, it's quite normal in fact for one partner to set off the other and for their cycles to sync. If you want Young then the best thing nature can do is have you both working on ‘all thrusters’ at the same time. But he is not fucking Mated! And Sam is a fucking Alpha. See, no Young! No chance of Young. So what the Fuck?? Maybe he has a tumor? Maybe he has knot cancer? Can that set off a Rut? Is that even a real thing? Maybe someone spiked the diner food with viagra or he has been hit by a Siren. Of course that must be it, some Siren or Love potion, some fuck-or-die curse. Maybe he should do some research. He is about to jump up and grab his computer when there is a knock at the door.

“Go Away Sam!” He shouts.

“Dean we need to talk.” The reply is muffled.

“Cant talk now Sam, gotta do some research.” He answers frantically.

Sam’s frustrated huff is actually louder then the creak of the crappy door being shoved open and the bang it makes as it slams against the wall. “What exactly Dean, are you going to research?”

Dean stares wide eyed as he answers. “It’s a love potion Sammy, or a witch or a siren….. Possibly aliens and some kind of love pollen, but I’m keeping that one on the back burner for now.” He is babbling and frantic and he knows it but he just can't seem to stop his goddamn mouth.

“Dean,” Sam’s reply is patient, (for fuck sake they have a double Rut situation here, how can the kid still be patient??) “ We worked a ghost case for 4 days and then sat around the motel for the next 3 days. There hasn't been a hint of a witch, or hex bags, or sirens, or fucking aliens, in all that time. So when exactly do you think you got whammied?”

“Ummmm, maybe it's slow acting.” Dean answers weakly.

The look on Sam’s face says: I know you are not as stupid as you are making yourself out to be right now. “You can waste time looking for clues to support your Love Pollen theory, if it will make you feel better Dean. But in the absence of any supporting evidence, the eventual conclusion will be that this is biological not supernatural.” Dean just stares at him. “And I’m not telling you what to do Dean, I’m not. I am the first person to preach that biology or destiny crap, does not rule our actions. But there will be a logical reason why this occurred and all I am saying is that you might spend your time thinking that through instead of feeding the crazy.” Sam gives him a long look, then adds quietly. “I’m going back to my room. Just think about things okay? And you know where to find me if you wanna talk.” And he just turns and leaves Dean standing there staring at the door.

-

Dean sits slowly on the edge of his bed and briefly wishes that he hadn't left the last of the alcohol in Sammy’s room. He isn't sure why he is so freaked. But Sam’s words are ringing in his ears and he tries to look objectively at the question. So what if it was biology? What did that mean? 

That he loved Sam? Of course he fucking loved Sam that wasn't even a question. 

That he was In Love with Sam? And there was the tingle of fear and he had no idea why. I mean there was the fact that they were both guys, which sooo wasn't even an issue. Well then, the fact that they were both Alphas? - hmmm kinky but again not a hard limit. 

Because he had practically raised the kid? Well yes, to some extent. It was there in every other thought, the term ‘kid’, but since they had been back together they had been more like partners than anything else. Sure he would always have this over protective surge around Sam, but there was no one else he trusted so much to have his back and you didn't get that from kids.

So then because they were brothers? And there it was. And why? Sure there was the issue with genetics, but if they couldn't have Young anyway, that wasn't an issue. Well then the social stigma? - it was no different from a 3SD couple. And what the fuck did he care what anyone else thought. The answer was he didn't. He thought briefly of Cassie and how she had raised her chin and told him she was trans, of how a woman who had to live with the repercussions of social stigma had dared to face it head on. Surely he, so far outside of that world and so far removed from civilian considerations, should have the courage to do the same? And the answer was that yes of course he did. Once he took the time to examine the panic he saw that he had no need for it.

So back to Sammy’s original question. What did he want to do about it? He was in love with his brother. His body of course knew it (had always known it, Alpha siblings were never this close) but as always his brain was the last to catch up. So he could act on it or he could choose not to. Like Sam had said they were not slaves to Biology, not to Fate or Destiny or any other direction other than their own Free Will.

He would always love his brother, there was no question of that. He would always have his back, they would always stand side by side, an Alpha pack of two. But did he want more? Did he want a mate? Did Sammy? 

-

The hour is late when Sam hears a knock on the door. He pulls himself up out of bed and moves to open it. Dean is stood outside, the brisk night air ruffling his short hair, the light from the orange street lamp just enough to show his hopeful but calm expression.

“I thought we might talk?” Dean says quietly. 

In response Sam places his hand to the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him in until their foreheads are resting against each other and their breath mingles between lips that are separated only by inches. And as they breath in the scent of pack and home and Alpha and love, he whispers. “Always.”

-

Sam sits down on his bed and pulls Dean to sit next to him. He lets them sit side by side to give Dean some space. Talking is never Dean’s thing. But he does not prompt him. He has said his piece now it's Dean’s turn to start. 

Dean doesn't waste his words, he turns to make eye contact. “I love you.” There he said it. He looks expectantly at Sam waiting for his big reaction.

Sam smiles and says “I know.”

Dean is about to launch into the ‘no you don't understand, I am IN love with you speech’ when he realises that Sam is grinning at him, “Did you just……. quote Star Wars to me??” Sam bursts out laughing “Son of a Bitch!” for once it's Dean who has no idea whether to be exasperated or amused.

“Listen Jerk,” Sam replies still smiling, “I have been in love with you since before I knew there WAS a difference between love and In love.” Dean looks slightly stunned. “Like I said, the only question there was, was what you felt and what we wanted to do about it.”

“...... but Jess?” Dean’s question is soft, but nevertheless Sam’s face falls at the mention.

“I loved her too.” Sam says sadly, “and a part of me will always love her, but there isn’t a limit to the number of people you can hold in your heart Dean. And what you feel isn’t always exactly the same, but it's still love.” He looks back intently into Dean’s face. “You don't let people in, and I know why you don’t, I know how much it hurts to lose them, but I have always known that I had a place in your heart and you in mine.” There is a slight flush to Dean’s face and he is starting to look uncomfortable, of course that could also be his Rut. “So what now?” Sam asks again.

Dean looks back, his face scrunched up like the words he is looking for are lost in a maze, then his face firms and he smiles and leans in brushing his lips against his brother’s. “Is that okay?”

And Sam smiles back “More than okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> \- I got to this point and an evil little imp inside me said: You know, you could just leave things here.... But then my hind brain kicked in and went nooooooo we need at least a little bit of Porn. Final chapter next for a little bit of naughty goodness and the epilogue.


	11. Chapter 11 - Epilogue

Sam pushes his brother back on the bed and buries his face in Dean’s groin. 

Dean is overheated and panting and has long ago thrown the covers off the bed. His skin is hot and covered in streaks of sweat (and other more dubious fluids). He is busy watching Sam’s head bob up and down and enjoying the pronagraphic slurping noises Sam is making as he attempts to fit his lips around Dean’s knot. He’s not going to make it, but he sure as hell is giving it everything he’s got. 

They have been fucking for the last 3 days and technically Sam’s Rut should be over, but since Dean started late, his body seems content to hang in there till Dean drops. The room isn't exactly sanitary at the moment and Dean feels a small flash of compassion for whatever maid finally gets in here and has to clean up. (But it’s the kind of motel that probably has special cleaning crews for their Rutting customers.)

Still two Alphas in Rut - that is a lot of bodily fluids that are currently distributed around the room. (Heh heh!)

Dean had sent Sam out to buy as much synthetic slick as he could get his hands on. Damn kid with his jedi Rut powers, hadn't even flinched at the task, although he had ended up fighting off two very handsy Omegas before he managed to get back to the motel. 

And for the one who had seemed all zen and calm Sam sure was a demon (no prophecy intended) in the sack.

He had sat there and had a nice calm discussion about, what sort of activities they both might enjoy and if they were both interested in penetration, kink exploration, had any dislikes or hard limits. And when Dean had replied with a smirk that he’d try anything once with the exception of scat, necrophilia and permanent injury (I know, still hilarious) - Sam had eyed him for a second then PICKED HIM UP, thrown him face first onto the bed and proceeded to lick him open before finger fucking him within an inch of his life. 

Any time Dean had tried to move or get a hand on anything, Sam had snarled at him, eyes red and fierce, until Dean went back to laying there panting and begging. Jesus Christ, he had almost had to break out his safe word before Sam had consented to actually get something bigger than his four fingers in Dean. And the dude was big! Dean had let a fair handful of males fuck him, like he said he was up for most things, but he had never actually taken a knot before. And long before Sam’s knot was swelling in him, he was glad they had spent so long working him open and used a ridiculous amount of slick. Even still Dean had needed to take a few minutes to acclimatize before Sam started pounding him, (and when he says pounding he means pounding. Dean had gone rounds with a wendigo that had less of a punch.) Still the kid knew what he was about, every single thrust had hit Dean’s prostate, and though he will deny it to his dying day he had literally been whimpering in desperation by the time he had come and set Sam off. 

After that first round they had lain spooned and locked. (Dean didn't much care for being the little spoon, but he was too exhausted just at this minute to complain. Besides till Sam’s knot went down they weren't going anywhere.) When he finally had his breath back he muttered to Sam, “You know I’m driving next round, right Bitch?”

“Shut up Jerk.” (Even without looking over his shoulder, Dean could hear the evil smirk) “You loved it and you know it.”

“Maybe.” Dean admits grudgingly, “But you know there is such a thing as technique right? You don't gotta go at everything like you're bashing it with a hammer.” Now he is just exercising his right as big brother to rile up his little brother without due provocation. (Even if said little brother still has a cock lodged firmly in his arse.)

“Hey, there was nothing wrong with my technique and the noises you were making prove that I’m right.”

Dean ignores any obvious truth in that statement, that's not the point. “Don't worry young Padawan, I will teach you the ways of the Force.”

Sam’s response is a snort, and a roll of the hips causing his knot to pull gently on Dean's abused rim. He doesn't talk after that, he’s too busy shuddering with aftershocks.

 

\---***---

 

Once their Ruts finally dropped, they pack up their stuff and get back on the road.

As they drive Sam idly slides his fingers up and down Dean’s thigh while he gazes out the window, brow scrunched in thought. After a while Dean catches his fingers, pulls them off his thigh and instead places them on the back of his neck. When Sam looks over in query, Dean just laughs and says, “Let’s keep it PG13 while the car is in motion, huh Sammy? My Baby would never forgive me, if I wrapped her round a tree cause I got distracted.”

Sam smiles, but a few minutes later he is back thinking. Dean waits him out.

“Do you think Dad will be okay about it?” The question is out of the blue but Dean doesn't have to ask what he means. They have always been close, but their scents are now practically indistinguishable. They hadn't decided whether or not to go for a mating bite yet, but it hardly mattered. To anyone they meet, they will smell like a Mated pair, and an Alpha Mated pair at that.

Dean crosses his arm over Sam’s to rest his hand against the back of Sam’s neck.

“You and me, Sammy,” is what he says. “Someone once made me take a good long look at my heart, and that’s what I learnt. You and Me against the world. There is nothing and no one that I would put before you, so Fuck anyone else's opinion. We are living one day at a time, saving people, hunting things, making the world a better place monster by monster, all for them, and most of ‘em will never know and never say thank you. But still it’s what we do. Me and You. Together. So maybe they will be ok with us, maybe not, but if not then fuck them and fuck their bigoted opinions. They can go to hell for all I care and that includes Dad if he has a problem.”

 

\---***---

 

Turns out those words proved to be at least partly prophetic. 

They didn't really get much time reunited with their father - what with them finding the Colt, and Meg making a play for it, kidnapping John and him being possessed by Yellow Eyes himself. 

Of course even if their father had been totally nose blind, there was still all the filth Azazel sprouted about them when he was in possession of John’s body, (there was very little chance that the bastard didn't make sure John was awake for that fun).

And then in the hospital after the car wreck, it was clear from broken state that Sam was in as Dean lay dying - John had to have known what was now between them. 

However no matter what he might have privately thought of his sons, he had still smiled at Sam and asked that they not fight, before taking a oneway ticket to Hell in order to return Sam’s Mate to him. And for that, regardless of their differences, Sam had to love John Winchester. 

He just wished the bastard hadn't started a family tradition.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> -And that's it. I hope you liked it and managed to follow along despite any of my mistakes xx


	12. Time Stamp - First Rut, Top Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so apparently we needed some more porn :)
> 
> And we also needed some Top Dean, Bottom Sammy,  
> So in the interest of fairness I have added a time stamp.  
> I am not convinced of my ability to write Porn, but for what its worth, here you go.
> 
> Light BDSM Themes to also go with your Alpha on Alpha goodness.
> 
> And as usually unbeta'd so apologies for my errors.

It was currently a few hours away from dawn. Although dawn of which day Dean couldn't say. Sam’s Rut had sparked off his own Rut, then he had had his mini freakout, they had had a horribly mushy heart to heart, Sam had battled the ravening hoards to bring back supplies and then turned cave man on Dean. There had been a lot of sweaty growling and pounding, followed by a fair amount of exhausted sleeping. Then Dean had got his own back and they had ‘christened’ the tiny sofa and the ridiculously small kitchen counter. It hadn't all been one sided: Sam had bent him over the bathroom sink, twice, there sooo wasn't enough room in there for that - though funnily enough they hadn't done anything in the shower yet, hmmmm would have to add that to the list.

Anyway there had also been some eating (of food!) and been some more exhausted sleeping, and now it was early morning…. of some day later. But by Dean’s reckoning it was his turn to drive again (not that he was keeping score!) and since it seemed like his brain wasn't going to go back to sleep any time soon, he was trying to decide if it was too early to wake Sammy up.

Of course the Formal Law of Rut (he was so making that up) states that In Rut anything, any time was fair game.

Dean rolled onto his side and observed the naked sleeping form of Sam, who was laying on his back for once. The covers were pushed down to his waist - leaving his chest bare and Dean couldn't help but stare at the large hickey that was currently covering most of his left nipple. Okay Dean might have got a bit toothy that time on the sofa. Which actually gave him quite a delicious idea. 

Smirking to himself (because no one else got his sense of humour), Dean leaned over Sam’s chest to the opposite nipple and began to work on a matching hickey. Sure he started off with licks and kisses, running his tongue in a broad circle, peppering butterfly kisses in between licks, but pretty soon his teeth were racking across the stiffened nub and he was getting a firm seal with his lips and sucking for all he was worth.

Sam came awake a bit startled, basically assaulted awake. “Wha….. Dean?....”

Dean pulled his head away from Sam’s chest and surveyed his handy work. Yep that would bruise up quite nicely and now Sam had matching nipple hickies (heh heh). But back to the plan!

Surging over to throw himself completely on top of Sam, he got right up into Sam’s face and put on his best “You-Look-At-My-Face-And-Tell-Me-If-I-Mean-Business" Voice and said low and hard. “Here’s what’s going to happen Sammy.” Sam’s eyes widen as he catches on to what’s happening. Dean continues. “I am going to roll you over and I am going to cover you in teeth marks. Any. Where. I. Want.” Sam’s breathing is picking up now to go with his wide eyes. “And when I am happy, I am going to fuck you. Are we clear!” It's not a question. 

Sam nods and Dean can't resist adding “Good. Your safe word is Clown” (Dean is just fucking with him, they aren’t going to need safewords for this, but the jab is too good not to throw in.) Of course now he has broken character, and Sam is about to pull a face at the ridiculous safe word, so Dean grabs hold of his shoulder and roughly flips him onto his front. Throwing off the covers in the process.

He wedges himself against Sam’s back, barring one arm down hard across the back of Sam’s neck to hold him in place. The motion as he presses down into Sam’s body causes his cock to slide between the globes of Sam’s arse. (He is fairly sure that Sam purposely rolls his hips back into it.) And suddenly what was going to be a put-on growl to get him back in character, slips out as a real one. Jesus Sam has a beautiful arse. Dean grinds his hips into his brother and leans down to sink his teeth into the back of Sam’s shoulder. There is a deep rumble now sounding in his chest and if Sam was to twist his head round now he would meet eyes shined in red.

Dean had had plans about covering Sam’s glorious back in teeth marks and hickeys, making his way slowly down before sinking teeth into the firm round globes, maybe even teasing him by moving away after and marking up those wonderfully strong thighs - but all of that has gone out the window now with his cock grinding along the firm crease of Sam's arse and all the blood from his brain stampeding to his cock. And despite best intentions, it’s like the first night of Rut all over again, the thick scent of Alpha in the air, his blood boiling under his skin. It’s all he can do to restrain himself. He leans into Sam’s ear and his voice is gravel rough and his breath hot, as he grits out. “Sam we’re gonna forget the teeth marks.”

Sam’s is obviously feeling the change in vibe because all he gasps out is “yes!”

And Dean is grabbing at the slick and coating his cock and his fingers. He sides three fingers straight into Sam who hisses at the burn and thrusts back with his hips. They are both well fucked open by this point, and prep isn’t taking long. Dean is infinitely grateful of this fact as he pull out his fingers, lines up his cock and thrusts in, all in one smooth motion, feeling the delicious heat and clench of his brother sliding onto his cock. 

Sam is immediately grunting and pushing back to meet his thrusts, hands bunched in the bed sheets - so Dean uses the motion of Sam’s hips to slide his slicked hand underneath Sam and get a firm grasp on his cock. He manages to put a small figure of eight movement into his hip thrusts, making sure that his swelling knot drags across Sam’s prostate with every stroke. He isn't managing much technique with his hand, but Sam is humping into the warmth of his fingers and the sheets of the bed, with enthusiasm.

Dean feels his knot really swell as Sam begins to expand out of his grip. Sweat is rolling off Sam’s back and slicking up Dean’s chest - their bodies rolling and surging in increasingly desperate motions. And as Dean feels himself about to come he sets his teeth into the back of Sam’s shoulder blade. It's not a mating mark, traditionally placed at the bend of the neck, and this bite doesn't break the skin, but what it does do is push them both over that shining edge together. Dean's knot swelling and locking into Sam's well abused hole, their muscles seizing, breathing paused, before torrents of burning hot release is scalding Sam's passage - Sam's own knot twitching in his brother's grasp as he too finds completion and release.

-

When they have both stopped seeing stars and the aftershocks in their bodies begin to diminish, Dean lays panting on Sam’s back trying to find his voice.

“Do you need us to roll over Sammy?” He manages to grate, in deference to the fact that they will be knotted for a while and he is still bonelessly draped over his brother.

“Naw” is as much a response as he gets for the moment from the kid, it will take that big brain of Sam’s a few minutes to reboot. But at some point he's sure to start bitching, he is laying in the mother-of-all wet patches, and it's only going to get colder.

“Damn,” Dean mutters, “You know you ruined my plans don't ya! I had a whole load of kink planned out before you started shimmying your arse all over the place.” Dean might still be a little punch drunk himself. “But you know what that means don't ya Sammy?”

“What?” asks Sam wearily.

“I call do over!” laughs Dean.


End file.
